Faramir's Journal
by AuroraExecution
Summary: Faramir's personal thoughts during and after the War, on how he and Eowyn heal each others' wounds. Please read and review. ON HIATUS, due to lack of time and lack of response.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. We all know who LOTR belongs to. Not me, that's who.

Notes: This is in the form of a journal that Faramir kept. Just pretend he did, please. I'm not going to start from the beginning of the journal because that would take a long time and I have no inspiration for anything before this part, i.e. Faramir being sent back to Osgiliath by Denethor. So. Just bear with me and read it, and if you like it, review so I know to keep going. Thanks!

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11 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
Barracks, Minas Tirith

Last night I returned from Osgiliath to Minas Tirith. The city of the stars is once more lost to us, and I know Father will not receive this news well. For, once again, I have failed where Boromir succeeded. Father does not know how grueling the fighting was in Osgiliath. He does not know how difficult it has been to maintain a city on the river, subject to frequent orc attacks that are nearly impossible to discover beforehand, especially when the river mists. Father has not seen the men fall like harvest grain to the blades of Mordor's servants.

Sauron's forces took the city so easily. Sometimes I have wondered if our success in taking the city last year was not at Sauron's pleasure, if perhaps Sauron was merely testing our strength, and could have retrieved Osgiliath at any time he pleased. But Father will not understand that even if I try to explain. He will not understand that Osgiliath will never be made whole again, and even if we retain it, it will merely be an empty shell of a fortress. It is already ravaged beyond our power to ever repair.

Mithrandir saved what was left of our force from the Nazgul that chased us back to Minas Tirith. I cannot deny that his presence in Gondor comforts me greatly, though Father seems to regard the wizard with a resentment I do not completely understand. Father cannot be jealous of the paternal role that Mithrandir has played for me, for, of his own volition, Father stopped taking that role a few weeks after Mother died.

Father has already called me, and I know I must go to him soon. I know he will begrudge me the loss of Osgiliath, and he will rail against anything else I may have done to his disliking. But he is more than my father. He is also my lord, and so I must try to serve him as I may.

_Later_

I do not know how Father found out about the Halfling's ring, but he berated me for allowing Frodo to leave our borders. Of course, he did so with his words veiled, though he did not veil the utter distaste he has of seeing my face. It reminds him of Boromir and Mother, two people he loved too much and lost too early. Father has uncanny knowledge of many things, and I do not deign to ask how he learns them. Sometimes I wonder if Father's abundant knowledge is a good thing.

Because he refused to allow me to go to Rivendell, Boromir has died, and now he regrets his choice. Perhaps he thinks if I had somehow managed to argue my way into going, he would right now have Boromir instead of me, and that I should have taken Boromir's fate. He does not understand that if I had gone, and died, he would only rebuke me for not being strong enough to stay alive. He would not think that I had died in Boromir's place. He would not change.

I miss Boromir more than even Father, I think. Although Boromir was Father's favorite, Boromir was so much more for me. Maybe I am thinking selfishly, but that is what I believe. Boromir was my protector and my best friend. He taught me all the things he knew, and watched over me all the time. He never thought it embarrassing or annoying that his little brother followed him around everywhere, though many of his friends found their younger siblings humiliating. Boromir was the only person in the world who understood me as I grew up, even though he was so different from me. He tried to make Father see how hard I tried, and sometimes he even fought with Father about it. Once, Father was so harsh about one of my shortcomings that Boromir refused to speak to him for weeks until Father agreed to admit he had overdone it. If Father was the low point of my day, Boromir was always the high point.

Father has asked me to retake Osgiliath. I know it will be futile, but the way he put it made it impossible for me to refuse. I have told the soldiers that this will be a strictly volunteer mission. I cannot force any citizen of Gondor to ride to certain death with me. But most of the soldiers wanted to come with me anyway. I cannot help but feel guilty for taking them away from their homes, especially knowing we will not come back. I doubt I will ever write in this journal again, and there are still so many pages left. Boromir bought it for me more than a year ago, before we retook Osgiliath. I have not written in it as often as I would have liked, as the fighting has become steadily fiercer and more often ever since then. What would Boromir say if he knew what was going on? What would he say about my suicide mission back to the orc-infested city that he took and I lost?


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Thanks to my reviewer, sarahbarr17. This update is for you, cause you bothered to answer! To anyone else who is reading, please review or something so I know to continue this. Thanks!

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16 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith

I have been pacing at the border between life and death these past few days, and it was my king who called me back yesterday. They have not told me much just yet, as they say I am not yet healed enough to be exposed to such trauma to hear the tales of the battle. I can only say that I look back on my suicide mission and feel heavy guilt that those who went with me perished to accomplish my father's will, and yet I lived. Some of the soldiers have come to see me, and I have voiced these thoughts. The men say that none of them would ever blame me for that, and that they would not have chosen to become soldiers had they any fear of death.

I suppose I should record what had happened after I left Minas Tirith for Osgiliath. The ride to Osgiliath seemed to fly by, and we were all silent during it. The battle needs little mention, save that my meager forces were decimated by the Sauron's forces. And so, after much courageous struggle on the part of my men, our numbers dwindled until there were too few for us to do anything more. I was stuck between two unpleasant alternatives. Sound the retreat, hoping that the few of us might get out but going against my orders, or continue fighting until we all died. I sounded the retreat. The few who were left began backing out of Osgiliath, and I shouted to them to go while I covered them. But when they heard that, they disobeyed orders and returned. I am not sure how it happened, but after I blacked out, my horse ended up dragging me back to the gates of Minas Tirith with my foot stuck in the stirrup. This was not long before the battle of the Pelennor Fields began. After that, I suppose I lay in the Houses of Healing until the king called me back from my dark dreams.

The captains are debating below the city. The people who walk past my chamber whisper of an attack on the Black Gate. I should be down there with them. I too should be fighting for my world. But each time I ask, I am told I am too weak to be fighting anymore, and I can only accept my fate. I hear them speak of so many forces from all over Gondor mustering together for the battle, and in the end, Rohan came to our aid, and then the rightful king brought ghost-soldiers from the Paths of the Dead. The ghosts have been released, but the other soldiers are now preparing to leave yet again.

The healers say I am only well enough to walk about slightly, or write in this journal, or eat. And so, that is what I have been doing all day. I know there is something they are keeping from me, as many of the healers and soldiers seem nervous around me. But no matter how I ask, I do not receive an answer. I suppose I will find out when the moment is right, so I have naught to do but wait.

And perhaps the time may not come before the world is covered by darkness, if Sauron should prevail. I try to hope, but the days grow darker, and by merely counting odds, it is much more likely that we shall not be able to stand victorious at the end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **Again, if you like it, please send a review or pm or something to let me know! Thanks to Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster, Sarasrati, taralkariel, and Faere for reviewing! distributes hugs all over

Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster: Sorry about the delay in updating. It's coming, it's coming.

Sarastari: Yes, this is movie-verse. But using book-verse time frame.

taralkariel: Eowyn is coming. Sorry if Faramir gets a little sappy, but I think he hardly cares at this point.

Faere: I'm glad you like the journal idea.

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18 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith

They have told me what it was that they were keeping secret. Father is dead. The news of my father's death did not seem to affect me the way it should have. Everyone was afraid it would be too much for my frail condition. But when I found out, I took it quite well. Especially because I realized I would never have to be perfect for him anymore, and still never win his approval. I will never need to try to transform myself into a person that I cannot be, into the person my brother was. I feel somewhat freed from my father's hold now. It's not as though I do not mourn his passing, but it also feels as if a dark cloud has moved away from above me and the sun can once more shine on to my face.

But I suppose that has to do with something else as well.

Shortly after I was told the news, I took a walk on my own in the Houses. And I thought I saw a vision. She was more than beautiful. She was sad and proud and regal, and I have never seen anyone quite so lovely in all my life. I cannot truly describe her with pen and paper, for there is some essence about her that escapes my powers of description.

I thought she was a dream, or a delusion. But when I asked one of the healers, I was told that this creature was, in fact, real and solid. She was the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, who had ridden to war in the guise of a male Rider, and who had killed a Nazgul with the help of the halfling Meriadoc. I watched her look out the window to the east, as though searching for some part of her that was gone off that way with the Host of the West. I should have marched with them, but I was again told that I was not in fighting shape. The Lady Eowyn seemed to feel something similar, a desire to march with the host that could not be fulfilled. I watched her for quite a while without realizing how much time had passed by.

I do not completely understand why such a maiden would draw me to her, as she is so different from me. She lived a quiet life and wished for one with adventure, I have had one filled with adventure, and have wished often for more peace. She is an impetuous warrior, who would do anything in the fight and not fear death, while I have learned in my years of scouting Ithilien to be careful for more than my own sake. She battles ferociously, proudly, as a lone soldier who serves her lord and whose choices affect her alone, while I have borne the weight of the captain, with the fate of all my men in my hands.

And yet, I suppose we are not so different. She has battled against darkness in many forms throughout her whole life. She has lost family to it, and friends. She has lived for a time, hopeless because she was helpless to stop the evil and pain. They say her lord has but lately been renewed by Mithrandir. Before that, she had to serve a failing king who all but forgot who she was, a king she regarded as a father. And I have heard, but also I feel, she loves someone who does not love her. We are similar in many ways.

But now, we have both been drawn back from the darkness. Perhaps only to step headlong into it in these last days, but for now, we are in the light, and I am glad of it. If we must all die tomorrow, at least I have seen the Lady Eowyn, and she has made my entire life worth that moment. Though, I believe if the darkness really descends, when I see him after death, Boromir will reprimand me if I do not fight, which is why I am trying to return to my usual health as soon as I can. Father would blame me for the darkness, but Boromir would simply be sad that this beautiful land is dark. Boromir would want me to have fought to the very last. He would have, and did.

After Lady Eowyn returned to her chambers, I returned here to write of her. She has brought me healing merely by her presence.

And so, my father's death is sad, indeed, but not depressing. His impossible expectations are forever gone, and I suddenly feel light, as if I could dare to do anything. Even approach such an unimaginably magnificent maiden as the one I saw in the Houses this morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes: **Yay! Update! I've been SO busy lately, so I haven't been haunting ff so often as I used to. All right. Good news: You get TWO entries this update. Bad news: They're both short. I will try to update again soon, but it depends on if I get any reviews. (hint hint wink wink) Thanks to my reviewers Sarasrati, taralkariel, and Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster. Huggles to you three! And just plain hugs to the people who are reading this.

Sarasrati: No, he doesn't know about how Denethor went all crazy etc. He will in the next update, if there IS a next update.

taralkariel: I love Faramir too!

Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster: Thanks. I'm very glad you like it!

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20 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith

I came upon the Lady Eowyn in the garden this morning. She did not turn around, but said to me that it was cold. And even as she said so, the wet weather was not so sad anymore because she stood amidst it. I told her it was merely a sign of the beginning of spring. And that is what she is to me: a spring, a rejuvenation, a rebirth of myself. She smiled a little at me.

We stood together and looked out towards the east. I took her hand in mine, and she did not let go. That brief moment has made me lighthearted the entire day.

Later, she told me that she wished to ride with the hosts. She started out proudly, but her voice faltered as she continued. I told her the hosts were long gone, and even if she tried, she would not be able to catch up. She began to tell me of how much she hated being helpless, and how much she wanted to fight and die. I said that fighting would very likely come to us anyway, though no one should look forward to dying.

"I am a warrior," she told me, "a shieldmaiden of the north. I cannot stand being caged." It reminded me of my mother, who came from a rural part of Gondor and withered in the giant cage of Minas Tirith. Something in Lady Eowyn makes me think of Mother. There is something sad and lost about both of them that creates an immediate desire in anyone to make them smile again. There is something more than beauty—radiance, perhaps—that pulses in sorrow, making my heart ache.

I asked her to walk with me more often, and she nodded.

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25 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith

The Dark Lord has been defeated! Everyone in the city is light and happy, and we have been celebrating since the news came.

I have not been writing very often, as I spent the past five days walking with Lady Eowyn and beginning to take more of my duties as Steward. From what I can see in her personality, she has begun to think of me less harshly, and is no longer fearful that I might scorn her. Perhaps she might come to think of me as something more…at least I hope. This afternoon, we stood in the garden and looked out to the east in silence, and a feeling came upon me that the world was about to change into something else, though I could not tell if it would be darkness or light.

And suddenly, the world seemed to burst into wonder and springtime, and I knew in my heart that, by some miracle, Frodo had accomplished his task, and Sauron was defeated forever. I looked to Eowyn, and she smiled, and it was more beautiful than anything in the world.

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I know it's short, and not too descriptive, but I promise it will get better. So if you like this story, review or send a pm!


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Thanks to taralkariel and Sapphire Wolf Master for their wonderful reviews. I really love Eowyn and Faramir as a couple (as can be seen by the subject of this fic), so I'm glad that other people agree with me.

_However_, I do not appreciate the other review I received. If anyone really dislikes my writing, you can do the mature thing and choose to ignore it. Try not to flame me and/or write criticisms without base. If you think my story is bad, please tell me what I'm doing wrong, instead of simply saying it's boring. I apologize if I'm not living up to your standards, but I can't really help it. I would appreciate it if anyone who simply wants to criticize would not use my story's review space to show unfavorable opinions about either the fanfic or the original story. Thank you.

Unfortunately, I do not have more than two sentences past this current update. Therefore, I will most likely not update again for a long time after this. Sorry. I'm trying to write more, but college is sucking away my life. Anyway, hugs to my readers. Enjoy!

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7 April, 3019 of the 3rd Age  
Office of the Steward, Minas Tirith

I have finally had a chance to take a break from my duties as Steward, and write a little. I had been so incredibly busy with temporary repairs for the city, and preparations for the king's return and coronation. But then, the warden from the Houses of Healing came to me and asked me to do something about the Lady Eowyn, who was sorrowing still. The warden, I think, was purposely trying to play matchmaker, which might have annoyed me except that I am undeniably glad that he pushed me into it.

So this morning I visited her in the gardens, and walked with her again.

"You have not come for a long time," she finally said to me.

"No," I replied, "It's been eventful lately, and I have to do my father's duty. I'm sorry."

And after some more talk, I finally asked her if she loved me. She said she loved another, and I asked her if she truly did. I told her that I loved her, and I only wanted to know how she truly felt. Suddenly, as if I were in a dream, she seemed to open her eyes a little more, and she looked straight at me and said that, yes, she did indeed love me. I kissed her right then on the walls, and everyone saw, but we did not care. I am still unsure of whether it's really true, but I am rejoicing anyways.

_Later_

They have just now told me the details of my father's death. They say that before he died, he raved madness, attempted to burn me with him on a pyre, and finally threw himself off of the overlook. But they say that he also begged with Mithrandir not to take his remaining son away, that he seemed to love me, though in a raving, perverse way. I still remember Mithrandir telling me, before my suicide mission, that my father loved me and he would realize it before the end. I think now that the wizard was right.

Have I wronged my father by not mourning as I ought, by not weeping and tearing my hair because he died? Would he have loved me without being mad? What am I supposed to feel right now? Eowyn found me pacing unsurely in my office. She asked me what was wrong, so I told her about my father's death, and the very basic facts about his relationship with me. I asked her what I should do, what I should feel. She thought very shortly before telling me that if he was unkind to me, then I have every right not to tear out my hair over him. "And anyway," she added, "I've just promised myself to you. I expect that my intended is not going to be depressed after that." It made me smile.

I told Eowyn that I was not sure if everything between us wasn't just a dream, and she smirked at me, saying, "I can prove otherwise." And then she kissed me.


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